


Takes Two to Tango

by mudkipwrites



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Courtship, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Lasat Mating Rituals, M/M, Mating Rituals, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites
Summary: Zeb has been acting rather odd lately. Could he be trying to tell Kallus something?...
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108
Collections: Kalluzeb appreciation week 2020.





	Takes Two to Tango

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lohikäärme (Spacetiddies)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacetiddies/gifts).



> Another short and sweet one for the second day of KAW! This one's for @lohikaar, who is not only incredibly clever, but also a kind and compassionate human being. Aster, thanks for being a great mod on the Kalluzeb discord and for just being you! Also, many thanks to the marvelous @hixysticks for beta-reading this fic and others. I owe you some post-pandemic hugs.

* * *

KALLUZEB APPRECIATION WEEK 2020 - DAY 2 / SATURDAY MAY 2 / "MATING RITUAL" 

for aster (lohikäärme) <3

Garazeb Orrelios has been acting _strange_ lately. That is, based on what Alexsandr Kallus has observed.

His friend has always been the protective sort; but when Kallus drops his tray in the mess hall, the Lasat actually _snarls_ at the new recruits for laughing at him. Stranger still, his friend stoops down to gather up every last crumb for him with his own hands--as if he is honor-bound to provide him with adequate nourishment. 

_That_ had been weird. 

Then there's the way that Zeb had suddenly become invested in _modesty_ . His confident friend has never displayed any problem before with stripping down to his muscle-bound fur; but lately, he's been taking to changing within the 'fresher at dusk and dawn, and avoiding Kallus' gaze while dressing entirely. At first, Kallus had felt a bit insulted by the unexpected behavior: perhaps the novelty of living with his former nemesis had finally worn off, and Zeb now just saw another frumpy, middle-aged man when he looked at him. Truth be told, Kallus _knows_ that he's gained some body weight, but he'd never suspected that Zeb would be someone to judge.

It’s all a bit _strange_. 

And yet, _nothing_ has been more unusual than the addition of dance to Garazeb’s sparring routine. The quick-stepping, graceful, undeniably _sensual_ movements have suddenly become a regular fixture of their engagements. 

Kallus had first noticed it when, during practice one day, the larger man had dodged out from his grasp with what was unmistakably a _pirouette_ . Kallus had blinked at him with uncertainly, but had ultimately decided to just ignore it for his friend’s benefit. _(Garazeb certainly had; he'd doubled-down on the force of his next attack, leaving him wrong-footed and breathless.)_ However, the elegant, dramatic movements had only increased over time: a dip when Zeb falls, a spin when he slips, even what looks like a _bras en couronne_ just before leaping into battle. 

And so when Garazeb Orrelios dodges his next move with a rolling, rhythmic thrust of his shoulders and hips, Kallus cannot _help_ but allow the building bubble of laughter within his chest to burst.

Zeb drawing back his staff, battle stopping abruptly. 

“What was _that?”_ Kallus giggles, unable to help himself the smile spreading across his face.

Zeb shoots his hovering foot to the ground. “What was _what?”_ he snaps. His tall, fuzzy ears are drawn back, and defensiveness is written all over his powerful posture. “Dodgin’ yer attack? What, ya never heard of good technique back in yer Empire?”

Kallus chuckles. Despite the intended sting of Zeb’s words, he knows that the Lasat is not angry with _him_. He is just being defensive, as he always is, when he’s been cornered _._ He does not want to tease his best friend, but it's far too cute to see him flustered: his scrunched-up velvety nose, his twitchy, restless, purple-fuzzed ears. 

“Not _that_ , Zeb” he replies. The Lasat quirks a questioning brow, and Kallus wiggles his arms in poor imitation. “ _That._ All the fancy-footwork. _”_

A defiant tooth protrudes from Zeb’s lower lip.

"I don' know what yer sayin.'" 

Kallus grins. He postures his legs in an imitation of Garazeb's most recent step, and gives a half bow. "The _dancing,_ Zeb!" 

The results are immediate. It’s an interesting phenomenon to observe: the short, hairy ruff on the back of Zeb’s neck rises to standing. His chest rises and falls at a faster rate, and his cheeks puff out, as though he is winded. As he watches Zeb's tall, purple ears scoop low against his skull, Kallus realizes that the other man might be feeling... _embarrassed._

“Garazeb?” he asks, curiously amused. “ _Are_ you dancing?”

The Lasat huffs and crosses his striped, burly arms. This is one of his most distinct tells-- and yet _another_ sign of Kallus’ accurate deduction. Stealth, including your average lie or deception, is _not_ one of Spectre 4’s specialties. 

“You _are_! _”_ Alexsandr exclaims. Delight and surprise bloom in him now. “Zeb, I knew it, you _are_ dancing. I thought that I noticed something different.” 

“An’ so what if I _am?”_ Zeb growls in return. He looks like an Loth-cat dunked in a cold bath. _If he had a tail,_ Kallus thinks to himself, _it would likely be twitching back and forth like mad about now._ “I’m ’entitled to changin’ up my style once in a season.” 

Kallus smiles and lowers his eyes, signaling his intentions as friendly and not aggressive. 

“Yes, of course you are,” he affirms. Truth be told, he’s working _hard_ to keep the laugh out of his voice. “It just caught me by surprise, is all.” 

Zeb snorts through his nose. With a snap of his arm, he retracts his bo-rifle into a resting position. 

“Well, to be honest, yer awfully _slow on the uptake_ for a former ISB agent,” the Lasat replies. He holsters his weapon. “When ya failed to notice the gifts I’ve been leavin’, an’ all of the _other_ gestures I’ve been sharin’, I thought that I might have to take some more drastic measures.” 

Kallus raises his eyebrows. This time, it’s _his_ body that is burning with tells of embarrassment. 

“Gifts? _Gestures_ ? I--” He remembers stepping upon a squishy, cold, and very _dead_ bird lying outside of their quarters this morning. “ _That’s_ what those were?!” 

The Lasat flashes him a toothy grin. He feels his stomach twist and his heart pound at the expression on Zeb's face that could only be read as _flirtatious._

“I thought that somebody was sending me _death threats!”_

Garazeb laughs, and he crosses the distance between them in three quick, powerful strides. Kallus jolts--forever unused to being smaller than _anyone_ else in the room--and gazes up at the much larger, much more powerful creature.

“Nah, that was the old days,” Zeb answers with a smirk. 

He reaches up to stroke at a strand of golden hair that has been pulled loose by their sparring, and he tucks it behind Alexsandr’s ear. The brush of his claws against his skin _burns._

“This is _now._ And _now,_ I’ve been tryin’ my damndest to _court_ ya, Alexsandr. _Karabast_ !” he adds, “I have been leavin’ signals out for ya all over Yavin. I just didn’ expect ya to pick it all up from my _sparrin’_ technique!” 

Alexsandr Kallus’ head is _reeling_. True, he’s been trained to process high volumes of classified information in his time; but _none_ of that had to do with confessions of mutual, inter-species affection. He’s been pining after the Lasat for _ages_ now. And the easiness of the other man’s admission is enough to knock him flat on his ass. 

“I...have been known to be _stupid_ , upon the occasion,” he finally admits to Zeb. It earns him another one of those smiles, and his heart flutters. “And, I suppose while I realized that there was something _different_ going on with your routine, I didn’t comprehend the meaning behind the actions.” 

To Kallus' delight, the Lasat raises his massive hands and places them each upon his shoulders. From a combination of pressure and light-headed affection, he feels his knees growing rather weak. 

“Well?” Zeb rumbles, squeezing his clawed hands into his shoulders. “Now that ya _see_ it, what do’ya think?” He cocks his head to the side, as if trying to read the human expression upon Kallus' face. “Are ya _interested?_ Can we give it a try?” 

The laugh that he has been holding back for this whole conversation erupts from Alexsandr Kallus. It seizes his whole body with giggles, and he finds himself collapsing happily into the surprised Lasat’s arms. 

“Well, _yes!”_ he exclaims, nuzzling into Zeb’s furry chest. “ _Very much,_ Garazeb.” 

A warming, pleasant sensation begins to vibrate all around him. When he looks up to see the bright, glowing smile upon the Lasat’s face, he realizes that the other man must be _purring_. It’s _very_ pleasant. 

“I was _hopin’_ you’d say that,” Zeb sighs happily. The hands on Kallus' shoulders slide down his back, applying just enough pressure to squeeze him in tightly. “Like ya said, I’m a bit surprised that _this_ is how ya figured it all out, but I sure as hell am not _mad_.”

Kallus hums in agreement, scratching his fingers into Zeb’s fuzzy sides. The Lasat purrs louder, and both of them laugh again. 

“So, tell me about the dancing?” he asks, petting Zeb’s fur. “You said it wasn’t intentional. Is there some sort of... _Lasat courtship-ritual_ that involves dancing?” He’d meant it as a half-way joke, but Zeb’s affirmative nod sends a spike of excitement down his spine. “What, _really?_ That’s so neat! Can you show me?” 

There’s that kriffing _smile_ again. It’s equal parts invitation, cheek, and seduction--and Kallus finds that he _really_ likes seeing that combination upon Zeb’s face. Particularly, when it’s directed at him _._

 _This is happening!_ he thinks gleefully. _It’s finally happening!_

“Well…” Zeb says, holding him out at arm’s length. “It’s more of a... _mating_ ritual _._ But, yeah, sure. I can show ya. Or...at least, a variation.”

If it is _possible_ to grow more embarrassed, Alexsandr Kallus immediately _does._ _M-mating ritual?!! WHAT?!_

“Okay,” he hears himself saying breathlessly. “Yeah, okay, Zeb. Let’s _dance_.” 

Garazeb chuckles. He steps back, creating some space between the two of them. It’s such a familiar setting: like sparring, but with even _more_ intensity between their bodies. Alexsandr Kallus finds himself rooted to the spot as the Lasat begins to slowly shift his posture and his hands, until he is resting upon his dexterous toes for balance. 

“It’s better up in the trees,” Zeb admits softly. He sweeps one powerful arm forward into a bow, and extends one behind him in an opposing, beautifully balanced gesture. “But this’ll have to do for now.” 

He bends at the hips in a sensual gesture, and Kallus' eyes tracks every last muscle movement. 

“Okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” Kallus manages in reply. 

Zeb looks up from his bow. He winks at him again. 

_Do members of the Rebellion swoon?_ Kallus thinks to himself. _Would anybody see me, if I did so right here?_

As it turns out, he will have several such moments in store during Zeb’s dance. Contrary to what many believe about the Lasats, the beings are equally graceful as they are powerful. Garazeb demonstrates this in the sway of his hips, the balance of his feet, the placement of his lovely head and his expansive hands. He doesn’t lock eyes with Kallus as he moves again, but he doesn’t _need_ to: the connection between them is still _unbelievably_ intense. He finds himself holding his breath as Zeb hops backwards and sinks gracefully into a bend; he finds himself only _barely_ resisting the magnetic pull of Zeb’s open and dragging hands upon the earth as he recoils them, drawing them in towards his chest as though collecting a partner. 

He sweats when Zeb bends low against the earth, curling and arching his back. 

It’s over almost too soon: the pivoting of the Lasat on one foot until he has turned towards Kallus, knee bent and chest open in an inviting gesture. And yet, for all of the encouragement in the posture, he can tell almost by instinct that this portion of the ritual is over. It leaves the one who is watching hanging upon a thread, an unspoken question just out of their grasp. 

He finds himself laughing again. 

“Garazeb!” he exclaims with awe. “That was-- _wow!_ I mean, you are just _incredible!_ I had no idea that you could move like that, I mean--” He receives the other man in another one of those life-giving embraces as he approaches. “ _Beautiful._ Extraordinary!” 

Zeb purrs and chuckles. He rubs the round of his chin into Kallus' head, brushing him with affection and musky, warm Lasat scent. 

“Wherever did you learn to dance like that?” he asks, gazing up and resting his hands upon the Lasat’s forearms. “Do they possibly teach you as younglings? Do you _practice?”_

Zeb rumbles, gazing down at him fondly through those emerald-green eyes. 

“Never actually done it before,” he admits. Kallus' face must express his disbelief, because Zeb gives the hands on his hips a squeeze. “S’part of the ritual, actually. Lasats don’t dance until they are _sure._ But then, when yer _serious_ about taking a mate…” he tilts his head to the side, considering Kallus, “...ya just sorta _go with it.”_

Kallus' expression must be hilarious, because Zeb throws back his head and he belly-laughs. As his powerful body ripples with joy, the feeling of it sends sparks jolting through him. A million new thoughts at once: _Never. New. First. Sure. Serious. Mate. Dance. Go With It._

“So, you’re telling me...” he begins, slowly. He is still struggling to process the words in his delirious brain. “...that you’re pretty _sure_ about me? About _us?”_

His friend cups his head in his hands. He smiles that coy smile again, and Alexsandr Kallus feels himself _melt_. 

“Been sure since Bahryn,” Zeb growls with cheery possession. “Just been waitin’ fer ya to catch up.”

This has been the best day of his life. _Strangest_ day of his life. But Kallus finds himself realizing that it is quite alright. If every one of his unusual days meant that he could spend time in the arms of Garazeb Orrelios, he is _ready_ for life to bring on another.

"Now," Zeb continues, voice soft and wanting, "how about you an' me try out the next step together? After all...part two requires a partner."

Kallus blushes. He smiles shyly back at his friend, hands sliding to rest inside of the Lasat's open and waiting palms.

“I’d like that,” he replies, voice still a little breathless. “ _Yes._ I think that I’m pretty _sure_ about that, Garazeb.”

Beaming, the Lasat squeezes his hand back. With excitement and tenderness, he leads Alexsandr Kallus into the open, grassy sparring field, preparing them to start with the next step of the ritual. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time. <3


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